“What’s the matter?” Simon cried, coming hurriedly to the foot of the ladder.
“That’s what I don’t know. Here are the prisoners’ dinners, and yet no one has come to relieve us.”
In silence, and like two stupids, I stood at the top and he at the foot of the ladder, gazing at each other in what was very like terror, and then, understanding that we were giving the Britishers an exhibition of cowardice, I said, sharply:
“If they have neglected us, it is no reason why we should not do our duty. Stand by to take this grub, and I’ll pass it down.”
Simon obeyed, and when all the pannikins were ranged in front of the brig ready for distribution, I came below, saying to the prisoners as I did so:
“[We don’t count on giving a double portion to any one of you this noon], so form in line and hold your pannikins in plain sight until all are delivered.”
[“‘WE DON’T COUNT ON GIVING A DOUBLE PORTION TO ANY ONE OF YOU THIS NOON.’”]
There was in front of the brig a small bar which, on being removed, gave an aperture sufficiently large to pass in food or water, and through this the prisoners were served.
As a matter of course, there was one pannikin left after each man had gotten his portion, and I fancied all the Britishers looked grievously disappointed because we had thus been careful in the distribution of food.